


Tell Me That You Love Me More

by FanGirlD



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Family, Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanGirlD/pseuds/FanGirlD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From five days into the relationship to four years after they first started dating… Stiles never doubts that he and Derek have something absolutely, positively, amazingly incredible together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me That You Love Me More

**Author's Note:**

> We need fluff. We need the fluffiest sweetest schmoopiest fluff before the finale for 3B airs, so here, have a bit of future!fic with Derek and Stiles and making a life together. The story and structure (and title) were inspired by "1 2 3 4" by Feist. And of course I don't intend any infringement because I don't own Teen Wolf.

Five days into this new relationship Stiles can’t stop smiling. It’s funny because he and Derek have known each other for five years now, and they’ve just started to become something new. Scott keeps giving Stiles sideways _looks_ , as if he’s trying to see inside his mind and understand what’s changed.

Stiles hasn’t told him yet. He knows he should, because Scott’s his best friend and that has never changed. But he wants to hold onto it, to keep it close because it’s _new_ and it’s _brilliant_ and it’s just… so good. So his smile grows when he thinks of it again, and Scott makes a small huffing noise, and nothing gets said.

Then Derek walks in, and Stiles looks up. The smile softens, changes, fully slides into his eyes as he watches Derek shrug out of his jacket and drop it over the back of the chair. Derek stops by the table, his gaze sliding over to Stiles.

And Derek _smiles_.

A slow burn of a smile until it becomes bright and wide, and Stiles can’t help but answer in kind.

“Holy _crap_ , is _that_ what you’ve been smiling about?” Scott looks between them both, and Stiles gets the feeling that he should feel guilty but he doesn’t. He doesn’t feel guilty at all, just anticipation as Derek approaches him slowly and leans in to brush a slow kiss across his lips.

As statements of intent go, it’s pretty quiet, but not at all subtle.

“Finally,” Lydia says as she walks through the door Derek left open. “Scott, stop staring. This might be the first productive pack meeting we’ve had in ages. Nothing’s currently trying to kill us, and Stiles and Derek won’t constantly interrupt with their bizarre form of antagonistic flirting.”

“We’ll still snark,” Stiles assures her. “You’d miss my wit if I were silent.”

“I would?” Lydia raises one eyebrow, her lips pursed in a fond smirk. “Maybe. But really, let’s try to have a good discussion today. I’ve scouted six possible properties for a pack home, and we need to determine which ones we will pursue. Where’s Isaac?”

Derek sits on the arm of the couch, leaning into Stiles, his hand resting on Stiles’s shoulder. And right then, Stiles really doesn’t care about the idea of buying a place for the pack to live, or how they’ll arrange it. He doesn’t care about any of it, because this _thing_ between him and Derek is brand new, and he’s content to sit there and enjoy the way it feels to have Derek acknowledge it in public. Derek’s fingers card through Stiles’s hair, gentle and calm, and Stiles sees him smile when he speaks. Whatever this thing is, it’s five days old, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

#

Four weeks marks the moment of their first argument and honestly, Stiles thinks they’re lucky that they made it that far. He and Derek have always snarked at each other, and their friendship was originally built on a basis of pushing each other into walls (and steering wheels). They left physical violence behind years ago, and Stiles likes to think that at twenty-one he has gained some much needed maturity.

It all comes tumbling down over the stupidest of things.

Stiles doesn’t exactly live in the loft, but he might as well live in the loft. Scott’s never home while he’s working with Lydia to get the new pack space set up, and Isaac’s in their apartment all the time, and Stiles just… he’d rather be at Derek’s place. Eventually they’ll all take over the small neighborhood on the south side of Beacon Hills that Lydia has deemed _perfect_ , and Stiles and Derek will be a part of the pack. But for right now, this space belongs to them.

He knows that he’s technically the interloper here, so he does what he can to help out at the loft. Like the dishes.

Like loading things into the dishwasher and running it before Derek gets home from work.

The very same dishwasher that Derek is now leaning next to, his hands on the countertop, glaring down at it rather than at Stiles. “You have to rinse things.” He pushes his hand through his hair. “I know you’re trying to help, but you have to _help_ if you’re going to. You can’t just shove something in the dishwasher and assume it’s going to magically become clean.”

Stiles is pretty sure it doesn’t warrant the level of anger he hears in Derek’s voice. “They’re dishes, Derek. I was trying to clean things up. You know, since I almost live here and—”

“Maybe you should just go home tonight.”

“What?” Stiles takes a step forward. “What the hell?”

“Your stuff is _everywhere_ ,” Derek growls. “This place is a pit. I can’t sit without finding a sock or a t-shirt or a hoodie or a plate that should’ve been washed days ago. I trip over your books. And now I have to rewash the entire dishwasher full of dishes because _someone_ couldn’t be bothered to actually rinse the bowl he made macaroni and cheese in and there’s pasta glued to every single plate. You’ve made it _more_ work, Stiles, not less.”

“That’s so not fair, dude.” He shouldn’t be yelling. He’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be letting this escalate, but at the same time, it’s so _stupid_ that he can’t help it. “You’re the one who went out and actually got a _job_ , remember? You’re the one who’s barely here so if I don’t study here, I don’t even _see_ you. Do you realize we spend most of our time together while we’re sleeping? I didn’t think dating a teacher was going to be so difficult. Maybe we need a new catastrophe in Beacon Hills. We saw more of each other when people were _dying_.”

Okay. So maybe that went too far.

Stiles is breathing hard, not sure where all those words came from. And he’s not sure what’s happening here, when Derek looks like he could grip the counter just a bit more and rip parts of it out. “Look at me,” Stiles whispers, and when Derek does, Stiles sees dark circles around his eyes, exhaustion lining his body.

Maybe this is a little bit his fault.

“I didn’t mean to make things harder on you.” Stiles’s voice is soft and low. “I was honestly just trying to do something good for you. You’re busy, and it’s finals for your kids, and you’re never here. I thought I’d get the dishes done, pick up some take out, feed you dinner. But maybe I’m not good for you. You’re still trying to figure out your job, and I’m still in college, and we’re both busy, and if you’re not getting enough sleep because of me and trying to be with me—”

Derek cuts him off with a kiss, and Stiles isn’t even sure how Derek got there so quickly, but he’s right there, and kissing the breath out of him. “It’s not you,” Derek murmurs. “I’m tired. I’m really absolutely exhausted, and you’re the one good thing that I can count on right now. And this is stupid, and I’m on edge, and I just want to fall over and sleep.”

The tension bleeds from the room as quickly as it came, and Stiles is left reeling, wondering if this is what it feels like when grown-ups fall in love. And where did that word come from anyway? It’s too soon—far too soon—for a word like _love_. This is a relationship, an actual adult dating relationship between him and Derek. And that means acting like it and trying to meet each other in the middle, and support each other when they both need it. Even if that means learning what sort of support works and what doesn’t.

He cups Derek’s face with one hand. “Go sleep. I’ll go out and get some food, and some paper plates. And when you wake up we’ll have a late dinner, then you can sleep again. No TV, no grading papers, nothing. You take a night off and it’ll be better in the morning. And I’ll try to be a better partner, too.”

It’s something Stiles thinks of often, when the little things set them off, like the time that Derek cleans up and moves the papers Stiles needs for his final project and Stiles freaks out about it, or the time that they both just lose it for no reason at all other than that they haven’t slept in a week and exams and projects and the latest big bad in Beacon Hills are pushing them down. It’s only an argument and it’s only temporary. What he and Derek have is something better than that, and if problems loading the dishwasher are the worst that they have at home, they’ll make it through.

#

After three months, Stiles knows that yes, it’s love. He has moved into the loft—although really, that’s just because it’s easier and it’s nice that they both have the summer off from work and school together. They’re both avoiding Lydia, as if somehow not picking a place to live also avoids the declaration of how they feel about each other.

It’s not a secret. Scott has stopped rolling his eyes every time he sees them, and Lydia still smiles fondly at them but she no longer smirks. After three months, they’re comfortable. And it’s strangely perfect.

Derek lounges at one end of the couch, a book open in his hands. There is a faint frown creasing the space between his eyes, and Stiles feels like he could watch him do this for the rest of his life.

It’s a scary thought, when he hasn’t even said the words yet.

He should say them.

He really _needs_ to say them, before life turns chaotic again, before the world turns upside down and one of them nearly dies. Or before they get too busy in the fall with Stiles’s senior year of college and Derek’s start of the school year with the kids.

Stiles sucks in a breath through a throat that feels too tight.

“I love you.”

Derek’s head jerks up, the book lowering at the same time. Both eyebrows lift. “What?”

“I love you,” Stiles repeats. “You. Me. Love. That’s what we have here, right?”

The smile, when it comes, is a slow burn, almost shy despite the intensity. “Right,” Derek says. “You love me.”

Stiles’s mouth opens and he laughs at the way Derek has turned it around. “I do.”

“That’s good.” Derek grins. “I love you, too.”

“Well good, we’ve got that settled then.” Stiles grabs the remote and shifts from his end of the couch to the other, budging up close to Derek. He manages to find a way to fit into the space without blocking Derek from reading; they’ve gotten it down to a science somehow in the last few months, fitting together in ways Stiles had never imagined.

Derek picks up his book, and Stiles watches him sink back into the story before he clicks the TV on, flipping channels until he finds something he wants to watch. It’s a routine, maybe, but it feels like it means more now. Stiles turns to him and kisses the side of his face, loving the smile that Derek gives the book. Loving anything that makes Derek smile.

Loving Derek.

#

Stiles stumbles from the bed and down the stairs on shaky legs, barely awake as he makes his way to the kitchen. He pauses on the way in to lean against the counter, trying to gain his balance, and flinches back when the light goes on. He throws one arm up over his eyes, and turns his head. “Dude. Warn a guy before you do that.”

“I’ve been up for an hour,” Derek says mildly. “On the other hand, I wasn’t the only human at an otherwise all supernatural bachelor party last night. Aspirin’s on the counter. And water. Drink it all.”

“You are a lifesaver.” Stiles reaches blindly for the glass, fingers closing over the two pills first. He lifts them, hesitating just before he reaches his mouth because _something_ is wrong.

He opens his eyes again to look at them.

Two aspirin.

One ring.

“We’ve been together for two years,” Derek says quietly. “We’ve been in this house for six months—”

“Lydia had to push us to move in,” Stiles interrupts to remind him. He rubs his hand against his eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them, then stares at the ring again. It’s simple enough, just a twisted band of metal.

“We lived together in the loft before that.” Derek approaches slowly. “You can still say no. I just thought—we’re together, Stiles. We’ve been together for _two years_ and neither of us has tried to kill the other one.”

“There was that one time…”

“Fey,” Derek reminds him. “That wasn’t you and me, that was magic, and it doesn’t count. You don’t have to answer right now. Take your aspirin and drink your water. Think about it.”

Stiles obediently tosses the aspirin into his mouth and swallows them down with long gulps of water until the glass is empty. Then he pinches the ring between his thumb and forefinger and gives it another long, hard look.

“Yes.”

“What?”

Stiles blinks twice. “I said yes. Now put it on me, already, and tell me when we’re planning the wedding because if we’re not careful, Lydia’s going to turn it into some kind of crazy circus.” He holds the ring out, watching while Derek slides it over his finger, fitting it down at the base.

“We could elope.”

“Lydia would kill us.” Stiles pauses. “Scott would kill us, too. If he couldn’t get out of dealing with the details, he won’t let us get out of it either.”

“One month, then.” Derek pulls Stiles in, and he goes willingly, letting Derek hold his weight.

“One month,” Stiles agrees. It’s only one small ceremony, after all. A legal thing. It’s not really going to change them.

#

Stiles panics on the night before the wedding. “One more day,” he says, voice hoarse. “One more day of being me, and then it’s me and Derek, all the time.”

“Dude, it’s already you and Derek all the time. We’re used to it by now.”

Stiles pins Scott with a look. “Oh, not like it isn’t you and—” He stops when Scott holds up one hand and lets his breath out in a huff. “You know what I mean.”

“We’re all grown up and paired off, I know.” Scott thwaps him on the back. “Dude, you’re getting married in the morning. You’re going to love it.”

“Am I?” Stiles doesn’t know, isn’t sure. It’s been two years, one month, and sixteen days and he still isn’t absolutely positive about this. Shouldn’t he be absolutely positive? Shouldn’t he be looking forward to seeing Derek standing there tomorrow and knowing that this is it, this is the rest of his life?

He knows it’s the rest of his life.

He’s always known it, he thinks, because they’ve always been headed in the same direction, together.

But at the same time, it is absolutely terrifying that they’ve gotten to this point where words will mean something this big.

“It’s forever, dude. _Forever_.”

The door creaks open and Scott glances up, lips twisting into a wry smile. “I see Lydia failed, too. I’ll see you in the morning. Try not to be late to your own wedding, okay?”

Stiles follows his gaze to see Derek standing there in the doorway to the hotel room Stiles had gotten for the night out of some sense of propriety. “You’re not supposed to be here before the wedding,” he says.

“You’re not a blushing bride, and we’ve been living together for a long time, and I miss you.” The words come out quickly and somehow Stiles still manages to cross the room and get his arms around Derek before Derek finishes speaking. Derek shoves his face against Stiles’s neck and inhales roughly. “Would’ve slept like crap without you,” Derek murmurs.

“Me too,” Stiles whispers back. “Besides. It’s my last night as a free man. I think I ought to celebrate.” He raises his eyebrows as high as he can manage and laughs when Derek nudges him. “Help a dude out?” he prompts, then he forgets everything else in the taste of Derek’s kiss.

#

Two days into the honeymoon Stiles wonders how he could have ever doubted this plan. He thought they didn’t need marriage, that it wouldn’t make a difference, but somehow it does. Maybe there were magic in the words they said, or maybe Deaton spiked the punch at the reception… he doesn’t know what it is, but he knows that somehow everything feels like _more_ , in a good way.

He looks at Derek when they lie there on the beach and he knows that his life is somehow _perfect_ now. That this is where he’s meant to be, and who he’s meant to be with, and they are _bound_.

When Derek’s fingers brush against his, all warmth and sand and then tangling to hold on tight, Stiles whispers, “I love you.”

He can hear the smile in Derek’s voice when he replies, “I love you, too.”

#

They are sitting in the park after a run, and Derek leans over, elbows on his knees, and watches the children play across the way. Stiles has seen the look on his face before, almost every time when they’re here, or at the pizza place, or anywhere where children are.

After three years together, Stiles thinks he can read his husband’s expressions pretty well. “You want kids,” he murmurs, and smiles to himself when Derek twitches and frowns.

“It’s not necessary.” Derek slides off the bench, turning to put his hands on the back and lean to stretch first one calf, then the other. “You’re still just a kid yourself, Stiles. Too young for children of your own.”

Stiles snorts. “I’m twenty-four, and you’re almost thirty and I’m pretty sure your biological clock is ringing loud enough for the moms on the other side of the park to hear it. Derek if you’re ready for kids, then I’m ready for kids. And we’ll find a surrogate willing to bear little werewolf cubs.”

“They might be human,” Derek points out.

“The chance of them being a wolf goes up if the surrogate is another werewolf,” Stiles counters. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen that look on your face. I’ve done my research.”

Derek’s eyebrows go up. “You’ve researched werewolf families and reproduction?”

“I already knew a lot about families, thanks to Lydia’s wrangling the pack into our little cluster of houses and being determined that we _will_ have traditional pack dynamics,” Stiles says wryly. “So maybe none of us have kids _yet_ —Peter aside, since Malia doesn’t really count, being our age and all—but we know we’re going to have them eventually. And why not be the first? You want children, Derek. It’s obvious whenever you’re around them, especially when we go to meetings with other packs and you get down on the floor and let the other pack’s kids use you like a jungle gym. So let’s get started.”

Derek blinks twice. “I…”

“Don’t even try to say no.” Stiles reaches out, palms the nape of his neck and kisses him slowly, not caring who might be looking. “If you’d married a girl your own age, like you _thought_ you wanted to do once upon a time—if you’d ever managed to find one who wasn’t evil and bent on destroying the world—”

“You tried to destroy the world once.”

“I got better.” Stiles grins, kissing him again. “If you’d married any of them, you’d have had kids by now. I’m ready, I’m not in school, and hey, handily I’m not working yet either so I could be a stay at home dad. Or maybe I’ll start up a consulting company and we can share all the dadly duties. It’ll be awesome. And think how thrilled my father would be. Or Melissa.”

There’s no response, so Stiles takes the lack of a negative as good.

“Then it’s settled.” Stiles leans down to tighten the laces on his shoes. “We’ll start talking to other packs tonight, see where Scott wants to firm up the alliances. Maybe by this time next year we’ll have a little one in a jogging stroller. And until then,” he straightens up, grinning. “Another lap?”

He takes off, and Derek isn’t far behind him. Maybe it isn’t fair, but Stiles knows that Derek doesn’t really have the words right now, and he wants to give him time to settle into the idea. They’ll talk again, work out the details, determine if they’re both really ready. But he’s said what’s important and he let Derek know that he’s ready if Derek is.

Stiles wants a family, and he wants it with Derek. And if Derek’s ready for that now, Stiles has no problem moving up the timetable to sooner rather than later.

#

They are in the middle of celebrating their second wedding anniversary—more than four years together overall—when both of their phones ping with a text.

“Sophia’s gone into labor early.” Derek’s voice is shaky. “It’s too soon. She’s not due for another month.”

“It’s going to be okay, big guy.” Stiles waves his hand, calling over the waiter and handing him a credit card. “We’ll sign for this and get to the hospital. You know Melissa and Deaton are with her. Sophia and the cub will be fine.”

He manages to keep his voice even, because he can’t betray his own worry. Derek has been nervous every step of the way, since the moment that they met Sophia and the decision became final. He worried through the attempt at implantation, and has been worrying ever since. He accompanied her to every appointment, has watched avidly as their child grew. Half the staff believes that Derek and Sophia are married, despite their laughing statements to the contrary. She fits in well with their dynamic, a little snarky and overly smart with a dark, wicked grin. It’s an alliance that Stiles doesn’t mind, and he hopes that when they are ready for a second child—he’s expecting Derek to want an entire pack of his own—that Sophia might be willing to act as surrogate again.

As soon as he has the paper signed and has pocketed the card, Derek is out of his chair, reaching to drag Stiles with him. Stiles captures his keys, plucking them from Derek’s fingers. “I’m driving,” he says. “You are in no shape to navigate safely. And she’s going to be _okay_. It’s Sophia. She’s strong, remember?”

Their phones ping again, but Stiles doesn’t look at his, focusing instead on getting the car started.

“Lydia’s there, too,” Derek reads. “And Scott’s helping out with the pain. Werewolves can’t use normal anesthesia; the hospital thinks she’s having a natural birth.”

“Tell them we’re on our way.” Stiles pushes the pedal down, and he might need to break a few speed limits on the way to the hospital. He just prays that his dad told the station and no one gets in his way or tries to stop him as he navigates through the streets of Beacon Hills.

When he pulls in, he lets Derek out at the Emergency entrance and tells him to go on in while he parks the car. By the time he makes it inside, Scott is waiting for him at the door, shifting from foot to foot anxiously.

“Dude.” Scott greets him with a backslapping hug. “You are going to be a _dad_ any minute now.”

Technically Derek’s going to be a dad and Stiles is just along for the baby-raising adventure, but he doesn’t see any reason to correct Scott. Biology doesn’t really matter right now. This child is going to be his and Derek’s and it’s going to be amazing, and there’s no point in panicking over it.

Except… holy crap, he’s going to be a dad.

He’s panicking.

“It’s not any minute,” Stiles manages to say. “Labor takes hours. And it’s not even time. Don’t they try to stop the labor if the baby’s too early?”

“Her water broke, they can’t. And she’s already fully dilated and ready to push.” Scott turns Stiles and pushes him down the hall. “Get in there, dude. Derek needs you with him.”

She’s pushing. Sophia is about to have the baby that he and Derek have been wanting. Because _yes_ , Stiles wants this baby. He wants to raise a child with Derek and see just how brilliant it is. He might not be looking forward to being woken up every night, or any of the other trauma that comes along with having children, but it’s _Derek_. And as soon as Stiles slides into the room and sees Derek standing there, his expression so _hopeful_ , his heart melts.

“Are you ready to kill us yet?” he quips and Sophia’s eyes flash gold briefly.

“Close,” she says with a sharp-toothed grin, but there’s no heat behind it. “Ask me again when this is done.”

Stiles settles in next to her, offering his hand—four fingers at a time so she can’t crush his fingers, even with werewolf strength. Derek is on her other side, leeching the pain as Melissa and Deaton encourage her to push. It seems like forever and only seconds all at once until there’s a shrill cry and Deaton is telling them that they have a little girl.

Melissa takes Derek with her to take care of the baby while Stiles says with Sophia until she is finally able to sleep. His breath hisses in and out while he watches her, his mind still with his husband even while he stays with the woman who has become their dear friend.

A tap on the door gets his attention, and Scott and Lydia slip in. “We’ll stay with her,” Lydia says quietly. “Derek’s waiting for you down in the nursery.” When Stiles hesitates, she purses her lip and raises both eyebrows. “What are you waiting for? Go.”

He goes.

His footsteps slow as he approaches the nursery, the long window showing him rows of cradles some with sleeping children, some with infants that are wide awake and kicking, looking around at things they can’t possibly see with those tiny eyes. And off to one side Derek sits in a rocking chair, moving slowly as he cradles a blanketed bundle and hold a bottle to the baby’s lips.

Stiles can’t breathe from looking at them.

He doesn’t remember opening the door, doesn’t remember taking the mask and gloves that he is offered so he doesn’t get his germs on the babies that aren’t his. Next thing he knows he is crouching next to Derek and their daughter, reaching out to touch her soft skin with one fingertip. “She’s beautiful.”

“She’s ours,” Derek murmurs. “Are you still okay—”

“With naming her after our moms? Yeah.” The two names together were an awkward mouthful at first the way they almost rhymed, but they’ve changed one subtly so that it works. “Talia Claudette Stilinski-Hale.”

At the sound of her name, the baby yawns, mouth wide as her little fists wave. When she opens her eyes, they are a dusky blue, bright and clear as she focuses in on Derek, staring at him. Stiles has to smile at the absolutely bewildered and poleaxed look on Derek’s face.

“You know you’re going to be an awesome dad, right?” he assures him.

“I’m going to try.” Derek hesitates, glances at Stiles. “We’re both going to be awesome.”

“We are.”

They have known each other for nine years now, been together for four, and at this moment their lives are changing. It’ll be counting up from this moment, each day brand new as their small family moves into the future. Stiles leans his head against Derek’s leg, feels fingers brush against his cheek. “Every day,” he whispers. “The Stilinski-Hale family is going to be better than awesome. We will be positively amazing.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also [on Tumblr](http://deatwoodwrites.tumblr.com)!


End file.
